


three.

by PajamaSecrets



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, First Kiss, M/M, Polyamory, Roman Catholicism, Sleep, Sleepy Cuddles, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PajamaSecrets/pseuds/PajamaSecrets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bless me, father, for I have sinned.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	three.

one.

 

-

 

“Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

 

Matt bites his lip, trying to remember what he had to say next. His fingers run along the old, cracked wood of the confessional seat. He thinks about the English essay on To Kill a Mockingbird due tomorrow and his project on ecosystems due on Friday for science class. He thinks of all the other seventh-grade things he has to do. He thinks of anything other than spilling his guts to a priest. But the nuns at the orphanage said it would be good for him.

 

“How long has it been since your last confession?” The priest’s voice rumbles in his ears uncomfortably. Matt can smell the priest’s generic deodorant and the toast he had for breakfast. He can hear the steady-yet-weak thrum of his heart, which meant he must be over sixty. 

 

“I’ve never done this before,” Matt says quietly. He folds his hands together. “I’m not sure what to say.”

 

“Just tell me your sins,” the priest explains. “The bad things you’ve done. You know the ten commandments, correct?”

 

“Yeah,” Matt replies. “Um. Well.”

 

He tries to think of something, anything other than what has been weighing on him for months now. 

 

“I stole a pack of gum from the corner store when I was little. But I didn’t know what stealing was then. Uh. I yelled at Sister Agnes when I first came to the orphanage… I wasn’t feeling well, and she was only trying to help…” Matt swallows thickly. He hears his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears, feels it heavy in his ribcage. “I have, um, sinful thoughts about girls…”

 

Matt pauses for a long moment. The priest speaks.

 

“This is all perfectly normal for a boy your age,” the priest says, voice gentle, heartbeat steady. 

 

“Father, I… I have those thoughts about boys, too.”

 

Matt hears the priest’s heartbeat grow unsteady, can _smell_ the bile rising in the man’s throat. Matt curls in on himself, scared, ashamed.

 

“Your penance is to say the rosary ten times,” the priest says. “And pray for an end to these feelings.”

 

Matt feels his eyes growing damp. “Yes, father,” he says. He fumbles in his pocket for the Braille sheet he typed earlier that day with the help of Sister Agnes. He runs fumbling fingers along the words, willing his voice not to break.

 

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us. In his name, my God, have mercy.”

 

Matt bites the inside of his cheek and tastes a burst of copper. He hears the priest shift in his seat and breathe in.

 

“I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

 

“Amen,” Matt whispers.

 

-

 

two.

 

-

 

“Dude,” Foggy says from his bed across the dorm room. “How do you, like, see people? Do you memorize their voice or what?”

 

Matt laughs deep from his stomach, laying on his bed. “Foggy, you are _so_ drunk.”

 

“So are you, Matt,” Foggy giggles. “I saw you take all those shots.”

 

“Fair point,” Matt replies with a grin. He pauses, licking his lips. He listens to the lethargic thrum of Foggy’s heartbeat. Foggy is definitely drunk. “Wait, what was the question?” Matt’s speech is slurred. Okay, he is drunk too. Very drunk.

 

“I saw you touching some girl's face at the party,” Foggy says, “and I was like, is that how you see people?”

 

“I’m blind,” Matt says, “I can’t see shit.”

 

Foggy laughs. “Dude, you know what I mean.”

 

“I guess? It’s one way of knowing what someone ‘looks like’. I mean, yeah, I can touch your face if you want. And feel out your bone structure.”

 

“Ooh, feel my bone structure,” Foggy whistles, “talk dirty to me, Matt.”

 

Matt and Foggy break into hysterics. “C’mere, Foggy,” Matt says between giggles, “I’m gonna feel the fuck out of your bone structure.”

 

More laughs. Matt hears Foggy stumble across the three feet it takes to get to Matt’s bed. He flops gracelessly next to Matt. 

 

Foggy smells like those awful jello shots at the party and inexpensive aftershave, with musk and warmth radiating underneath. Matt feels his face heat, and hopes that Foggy doesn’t see him blushing. 

 

“Touch me, Matt,” Foggy teases. 

 

Matt smiles, and puts out his hands, pretending like he can’t sense exactly where Foggy’s face is in relation to himself. “Gimme your face,” he says, wiggling his fingers.

 

He feels Foggy press up against his hands. Matt runs his fingers along Foggy’s brow, his forehead, his hairline. He rubs Foggy’s nose between thumb and forefinger and squeezes.

 

“Heyyy,” Foggy squeaks. Matt sticks his tongue out in defiance.

 

Matt’s fingers slide along Foggy’s cheeks to the tips of his ears, down to his jawline. Matt notices Foggy has a double chin and for some God-forsaken reason, thinks it’s utterly adorable.

 

With hesitation, Matt moves his thumb up along Foggy’s chin to his lips. Foggy inhales a stuttering breath, heartbeat skittering like a hummingbird’s wing. Matt rubs his thumb back and forth along Foggy’s lower lip and feels his own lips part open, his tongue run along the inside of his teeth.

 

Matt presses a soft kiss against Foggy’s mouth, barely there, enough to be dismissed as a navigational error of a drunk blind guy. But enough to be something more, if Foggy wants it.

 

Thirty agonizing seconds later, Foggy leans forward and kisses Matt. His aim is off and it lands on the corner of Matt’s mouth. Matt smiles against his mouth, his heart warm and steady in his chest, feeling its beat against Foggy’s.

 

Slowly, gently, Matt begins to move; he sucks on Foggy’s lower lip and Foggy’s hand wanders underneath Matt’s shirt. Heat pools in Matt’s stomach as he runs his tongue along Foggy’s lip. Foggy’s mouth opens ever so slightly. Matt licks into his mouth, warm and wet and soft, and when Foggy moans against him, it sounds like a prayer.

 

-

 

three.

 

-

 

Matt lay in bed, wide awake, feeling the painful throb of his injuries and the warm breath of his two friends. 

 

Karen and Foggy rest their hands on Matt’s chest, just above his heart, fingers brushing up against each other. Matt feels the steady thrum of their pulse, smells the lingering scent of sweat and sex from earlier in the night. He hears Foggy’s inhalations that just slightly verge on snores, and Karen makes little noises as she dreams.

 

Matt thanks God every day for bringing these two people into his life, his heart, his soul. His whole body aches with affection and bruises and cracked ribs. He closes his eyes, finally drifting to sleep in the arms of his friends.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm in love with Matt Murdock.


End file.
